The Sorcerer and the Sword Singer
by ShimmerSplash
Summary: A look into the journey of Lars Tenobor and Rhen Darzon, from being master and slave to becoming more, much more than that.


**CHAPTER 1: THE NOBLE AND THE SLAVE GIRL**

* * *

'You arrogant, good for nothing, moss-haired jerk!' whispered Rhen, lying on her tattered cot, her stomach growling with hunger and the day's events flashing before her eyes.

Once again she had gotten into trouble with Mistress Rona, thanks to the woman's brat of a son. The Tenobors had invited some of their wealthy neighbors over for dinner that evening, and her Mistress had wanted everything, starting from the food to the way the house looked, to be perfect. Rhen had already spent half the day scrubbing the floors and dusting the house till the entire place looked cleaner than it ever possibly had. "The house should _sparkle_ when I come back, do you hear that you worthless girl?" her Mistress had warned, before heading out. And sparkle it did, having been subjected to rigorous onslaught with a broom and a mop.

The Mistress had also specifically instructed her to take out an old box full of expensive porcelain dishes—which had been locked up in the storage for years, gathering an astonishing amount of dust—and wash them thoroughly, to make them usable for the evening. Apparently these had been handed down to the Mistress by her mother-in-law. "Been in the family for generations. I think we should show them off to our guests tonight. I doubt any of them have ever possessed things of such a fine quality" the woman had laughed.

Having completed all her chores but one, Rhen had been excited at the prospect of finishing everything early, leaving her with some free time before her Mistress returned. She had hurried over to the storeroom to retrieve the dishes, when a snide voice had called out from behind her.

"What do you think you're doing, you little runt?"

Ignoring the haughty voice, that she despised more than anything in the world, she had resumed heaving the large, dusty old box full of crockery out of the huge cupboard.

"Are you deaf? Didn't you hear what I asked you?"

Rhen had tried to force herself to remain stoically silent, to not let that green-headed rat provoke her into doing something stupid. But it seemed like her tongue had a mind of its own, especially when it came to returning jibes from that awful boy.

"Oh, I heard you alright, but I didn't think it necessary to reply to the _stupid_ questions of an equally dim-witted buffoon." She had said calmly, watching as the boy's eyes had narrowed.

Lars Tenobor was Mistress Rona's only son. His mother had spoiled him rotten, and as a result, the boy believed that the world belonged to him. He was an egotistical prick and had a mean streak, a mile wide. Forever tormenting the poor slave kids, he would make fun of them at every conceivable opportunity. Sometimes he and his friends—who were just as nasty, if not more—would corner a lone slave kid and proceed to bully him. Most of the time, Rhen managed to get in between Lars and whichever slave kid he had chosen to harass, helping the browbeaten child to make a run for it. And for that, Lars loathed her. He had never before met a slave who could stand up to him, unfazed by his family's position, money and superiority. Their family's status as one of the most well known nobles in the society was enough to make anyone stand back and bow before them, and here she was, a _nobody_ , defying everything and challenging his dominance.

His cruel words never seemed to intimidate her, like they did everyone else. In fact, this particular slave girl not only remained unaffected by whatever insults he chose to throw at her, but also dished out some colorful retorts of her own. Nobody else ever _dared_ behave so impudently in front of him.

Her latest remark had not been taken kindly to, and Lars had bristled with fury over her words.

"You'll wish you hadn't opened that big mouth of yours, slave girl!" he had raged, to which Rhen had twisted her mouth in contempt and said "Oh yeah? What are you going to do? Head-butt me with that overly bloated pumpkin you have, sitting atop your shoulders?"

"I'm going to tell my mother that you have been _stealing_ family heirloom, you little thief!" Lars had sneered, taking Rhen aback.

" _Stealing?!_ You idiot! I have been instructed by Mistress Rona to take these out for dinner and clean them before she comes back!"

"Oh, and I suppose I'm to believe that lie, eh? Those dishes are more expensive than anything you may have ever seen in the entirety of your useless life. Mother _never_ takes them out, unless it's for a special occasion. I hardly think she would have asked _you_ to lay your filthy hands on them."

Sighing, and already frustrated at having to listen to his non-sense, she had tried to walk past him with the box in her hands, saying "Why don't you just leave me alone and ask your mother about it yourself, smart guy?"

Before she could reach the door however, Lars had grabbed the heavy box, trying to pull it free from her grasp.

"I'm not letting you leave with that box, thief!" he had roared.

"Lars! You air-headed, sorry little excuse for a human! Give it back! I have to wash these before Mistress returns!" Rhen had shouted right back at him, snatching at the box.

"Oh no you don't, give me it!"

"Let go!"

"Like hell I'm going to let go! YOU let go!" Thus saying, Lars had wrenched the box out of Rhen's hands. The top of the box had been open and—before either of them could do anything—one of the smaller porcelain cups, which had been lying over the rest of the crockery, had flown out from the open end. It had hit the wall opposite to them, smashing instantly into a million pieces before dropping to the floor.

Rhen had stood there, gaping at the shining fragments, her mouth open. "What have you done?" she had whispered, already imagining how angry the Mistress would be, on seeing the shattered cup.

Placing the box hurriedly on the floor, Lars had snapped. "Me? It's _your_ fault that it broke! Why didn't you just give it to me when I told you to?"

"I was supposed to clean them, like I've been trying to tell you for the past few minutes!" Rhen had screamed. "What are we going to do _now_?!"

Lars had given it all of half a minute before saying, " _We_ are not doing anything. Rather, _you_ are going to have to come up with an explanation for all this."

Angry beyond belief, Rhen had shouted, "I'm going to tell your mother exactly what happened! How you wouldn't believe me when I told you I was to clean those dishes and how you snatched at the box, making the cup fly out of it and hit the wall!"

"And _I'm_ going to tell her that I wasn't even here, that I was out with my friends!" Lars had countered triumphantly, a sneer forming on his face. "Who do you think she'll believe? Her darling boy or the worthless slave girl who never does _anything_ right?"

Opening her mouth to say something, only to close it shut right away, Rhen had stared at Lars foolishly. There was no way her Mistress would believe her over her own son. Even if a tiny part of her _did_ suppose that it was Lars who was in the wrong, she'd turn a blind eye to it, not hesitating to place the blame on her slave.

Rhen had cast her eyes down, her shoulders drooping a little. She knew when she had been thoroughly defeated.

Laughing, Lars had walked out of the room, leaving Rhen to pick up the shattered pieces of the cup from the floor. Muttering under her breath on how she would love to get back at him for doing this, she had hoped that the missing cup would go unnoticed.

Unfortunately luck had not been on her side.

When Mistress Rona had returned she had immediately asked to see the dishes. Her beady little eyes had missed nothing, and she had inquired about the cup, to which Rhen had had to tell her that she had accidentally broken it. After that, the Mistress had raged at her for almost an hour, calling her all sorts of names, screaming and shouting about how useless she was, giving her even _more_ work to do and then sending her off to bed without any dinner. All through it, Lars had kept his mouth shut, throwing Rhen a grin full of malice when his mother hadn't been looking.

Now, her back aching with all the extra work she had had to put up with, and listening to the laughter of the guests sitting in the dining room, enjoying themselves over a splendid dinner, Rhen couldn't help but curse her luck. Her stomach let out a loud rumble and her mind drifted to the food that was being served to the guests at the moment. Food that _she_ had slaved over the entire day, even though she knew next to nothing about cooking. Mistress Rona had made her do it all over, heaven knows how many times, claiming that the taste wasn't exactly to her liking.

Over and over and over again.

It had been one of the most tiring days of her life. And here she was, driven almost mindless with hunger, not having gotten to even sample the food that she had cooked.

Rhen sat up, cursing the day when she had been taken away from her home and brought here to this strange place.

"Damn that horrible slave-trader for kidnapping me all those months ago and selling me to the Tenobors. Damn my Mistress for being the cruelest person alive. And most importantly, damn that green-haired _toad_ for getting me into trouble. Every. Single. Day!"

* * *

Lars helped himself to some gravy as he listened to his mother regaling her guests with stories of her childhood. He didn't really need to pay any attention to these; they were almost committed to his memory from the sheer number of times he had been told about them. His mother never failed to bring up the subject of how rich her family was, how splendid a life she had had as a young noblewoman, how huge her mansion had been, how many beautiful things she had possessed and how many slaves had worked for them at her old home. The picture of grandeur that she would paint of her life before marriage seemed to be even more splendid than what they had right now. There was no mistaking her pride at having been born to a family of such high rank.

As a kid, Lars had been taught to differentiate between the different ranks in society. Not every noble family belonged to the same stratum as the others; they too were divided according to class.

 _Their_ family belonged to one of the few higher ranking classes, and as a result, they were very well recognized in the society. The Tenobors were one of the richest and oldest known noble families, and they enjoyed authority over the rest. Lars was taught to choose his friends according to the status of their families. His mother had been extremely particular about who her son hung out with, dismissing any child who she deemed unworthy of their acquaintance. He was never allowed to associate himself with any of the slave children. If she happened to catch him speaking to one of them, she would call out the poor slave child immediately and have him punished. These were the philosophies that Lars had grown up with, the understanding that people were born into different families and they only mixed with others of equal standing. Slaves were the poorest of the lot, deserving nothing but mistreatment. They were dirty, contemptible, foul and unworthy of life's luxuries and pleasures. They had been born into pitiable families for a reason, and hence, needed to be spoken to with disdain. The ones that worked for them, were their property, and would remain so till the day they died or were sold to a different family.

To everyone else, their family was a picture of perfection. With the kind of wealth and status that they held, nobody could argue that the Tenobors were one of the most prosperous names in their society. Why, they were even related to the Empress of Veldarah! That must give them access to untold luxuries!

But in truth, their household was lacking any real warmth. With a father who rarely made an appearance and a mother who worried more about her son's status than his happiness, Lars was left wanting for more. The emptiness that gnawed at him every day, made him lash out and turn aggressive and he took to bullying those who were the easiest of targets.

Over time, he made a habit of his oppressing ways, enjoying the feelings of power that it brought him. Watching those pitiable slave children cower and whimper before him made him forget about his own empty, boring life. In fact, when he compared his circumstances to those of the poor kids, he felt proud of the privileges that had been given to him by birth. Making those runts realize how pathetic their lives were, made him feel better about his own. Even his friends would egg him on, their malicious natures rubbing off on him more with each passing day. Little did these youngsters know, that the world outside was full of different kinds of people, and that their titles meant nothing when all was said and done. It all came down to who they were as an individual, and what they did with the things that life had given them.

Lars became even more pompous once the family discovered his magical abilities. Of course, they had always known that this day would come. Every man in his father's family had possessed the gift and knowledge of sorcery. It was inevitable, that it would be passed down by blood, to the brightest boy in their family. Immediately, his mother had started telling him about Shadwood academy, the biggest and grandest school for sorcerers and sword singers in the entire mainland. Although his abilities had only _just_ been brought to light, Lars had listened to his mother describing the magnificent academy and he had known that nothing in the world could stop him from going there. He was to become the most powerful sorcerer in all of Aya.

He couldn't wait to be a student in the Academy. Although it would be another year till he'd have the opportunity to meet with the emissaries, Lars began honing his magical skills. He practiced concentrating his energy towards using his abilities. And what better way to test his skills than on the slave kids? His bullying got worse, so much so that the kids would run away at his mere sight, afraid to become his next target.

And all this would have gone on for very long, if it hadn't been for the appearance of one lilac-haired girl.

Lars clearly remembered the day, so many months ago, when his mother had told him about their new servant. She had introduced him to the bewildered looking thing later that day, while telling the new girl to address him as "young master". Her name, Rhen, had been casually mentioned, but of course he had no use for it. He had watched her closely, noticing her puzzled stares, as if she didn't quite understand what was happening to her. She hadn't really _looked_ like a slave, to be honest. Her clothes—although a little dirty—had been a far cry from the rags that others of her kind were usually seen in. She hadn't been too bad looking, the unusual color of her hair drawing his attention towards it. It was very long and thick, braided neatly at the back with a few bangs left falling casually over her eyes. She didn't bow her head in front of her masters, but instead looked around everywhere, surveying the house with inquisitiveness. In fact, the only thing that had betrayed the fact that she had an owner was the thin bracelet that could be seen tied around her wrist.

The girl had looked at Lars with a curious expression on her face, to which he had answered with a haughty glare of his own. Taken slightly aback, she had furrowed her brows and looked away with a frown. Unusual behavior! Any other slave would have cast his eyes down immediately!

Maybe she was new to all this, Lars had thought with a smirk. It would fall upon him then, to teach her what it meant to have a master.

The next few hours had gone by, with his mother telling the girl what her duties around the house would be. She had sat there, listening to her Mistress, her eyes widening with shock. The full realization of what her life was about to become had hit her with a force, evident by the horror-stricken expression on her face. She had then been told to change her clothes, a bundle of old rags thrust into her hands. A servant had no business owning finer garments after all. Once she was ready, his mother had snatched the girl's old clothes from her, to be either burnt or given away. The girl had tried to cling on to them, crying out about her family and home, but the Mistress was having none of that.

She had then been left alone, as his mother went away with the clothes clutched tightly in her hands.

He had found himself alone with this new girl. Finally some time to talk.

"There's no use crying over it you know." Lars had said loudly, glancing at the lowered lilac head. "No matter what you do or say, mother isn't going to return you your clothes. She is probably burning them right now, as I speak."

He had watched as the girl had lifted her head slowly, looking him square in the eyes. Surprisingly, her face hadn't been tear-stricken as he had been expecting.

"I'm going to get out of this place." She had murmured slowly. "I'll be out of here soon enough."

Lars had let out a laugh. "Get out? Oh, pray tell how you plan on doing that, _slave_? Do you see that?" he had said, pointing at the slave bracelet on her wrist, " _That_ means that you have an owner. You can never take that off your wrist, and the moment you try to sneak out of Ghalarah, the guards are going to be on you like a pack of hungry lions. But you know what? Try it. I dare you. It would be really funny watching the new slave girl being dragged by her hair, back to her owners' place."

"I'm not going to run away you toad!" the girl had fired back, making Lars widen his eyes in surprise. "I'm going to be a free girl again, soon enough. And when that day comes, I'll see to it that every slave in this awful town is freed shortly after."

"How dare you!" Lars had raged, shocked beyond belief at being addressed in such a manner, and by a lowly servant no less. "I'm your master, you hear me? And you are to address me so! If you don't, I'll have you lashed in front of everyone in this town, do you understand?"

"Oh, I see, so you're going to run to your dear mummy and cry about how your new slave hasn't been listening to you? Is that how you're going to set your plan into motion? Poor Lars can't really do anything for himself, can he? Always clutching at his mother's drawstrings to get things done."

Lars had sneered, "Pretty brave for a servant girl aren't you? You're new, so you don't know how things work around here. Maybe it'll take a bit of time, but I'd love to teach you what it means to be owned by the Tenobors!"

He had advanced towards her, hands raised, ready to grab her by that long braid, when the girl had suddenly snatched a vase from the table nearby. "Come near me, and I'll smash this on your head!" she had growled. Her eyes had narrowed at him, her body poised to attack at the slightest hint of a movement.

Lars had lowered his hands slowly. "You're a wild little thing aren't you?" he had said with a glint in his eyes. "I think things are about to get very interesting around here."

They had stood there for a long time, eyeing each other warily. Lars could see the girl's arm beginning to tire, as it had shaken slightly with the vase still gripped tightly in her hand. A few more minutes had passed, and she had finally lowered it, placing the vase back on its spot on the table.

And that's when he had lunged at her.

Rhen had let out a scream, trying to move out of the way, but he had caught her, pressing her flat against the wall, grabbing her by the throat and forcefully pushing her head back. Her arms had thrashed wildly, trying to hit him and get out of his grasp but Lars hadn't budged, holding her in place.

"Still feeling brave, little girl?" he had mocked, as Rhen had struggled against him.

However, the sound of footsteps approaching had made him release her and stand back. Rhen had gasped, rubbing her neck where his hand had gripped her. Seconds later, Mistress Rona had appeared, admonishing the girl for standing there like a fool and giving her a list of tasks to do for the day. Rhen had thrown him a look full of contempt, before following his mother out of the room.

From that day on, the two of them had sparred with each other at every given moment. Lars was forever goading her, giving her all sorts of work to do, on top of the ones that his mother gave her already. Most of the time she would try to get out of doing them, but the times his orders were given in front of the Mistress were when she had no choice but to obey. But it wasn't as if Rhen didn't have some tricks up her own sleeve. When the Mistress wasn't around, she would deliberately mess up whatever work he had told her to do. When he showed signs of wanting to complain to his mother, she would provoke him by saying that he was just a bratty baby who needed his mother to take care of everything for him. They would also call each other all kinds of names, neither wanting to back down from their exchange of verbal blows.

As he had predicted, his life _had_ become interesting with the arrival of this girl.

Lars quietly pushed away the leftover peas to the edge of his plate, as his mother started telling her guests about the measures she had taken to ensure that her slave was always in the best of behavior.

He snorted at this, finally getting up to excuse himself from the table and heading to his room. He was afraid he'd burst out laughing in front of the guests, if he heard any of that. Sure, his mother knew exactly how to keep a reign on her servants. But _this_ one in particular, was far from getting disciplined.

In fact, from the looks of things, it would probably fall upon _him_ to tame this wildcat.


End file.
